Improper Valentine
By: Morbid Alex (Karasu8)
A/N: All right. This one-shot is short, doesn't have a BETA, and is a bit rushed. It's nice, I guess, and is for Valentines' Day. It's about Fugaku and Mikoto. Mmm, Uchiha loving. There just isn't enough of this pairing around. Hm. Read and review?
Disclaimer: I do not own Naruto, nor any of the characters, but I do own the plot and the fanfiction. I make no money off of this - don't sue me.
A woman should never stray from the path chosen for her. It isn't right. It's absolutely unladylike to do anything out of the ordinary. Do something abnormal and you'll never be considered a real lady again - for as long as you live. I grew up like any female of the Uchiha clan. I had a strict father, a member of Konoha's Police Force, and a calm, beautiful mother. The two of them remind me of myself and my life today. I look back at the past and am surprised by how similar it is to this present day and age. Now that they're gone, I feel almost as if I'm in my own shoes.
I learned to be a proper lady and a perfect kunoichi. Mother always lectured me on my manners. She told me only to speak when spoken to. I was instructed to be a shinobi for as long as I was needed. And then, I was to settle down with the husband chosen for me. I did. I was to give my husband the utmost respect - preparing his meals, bearing and taking care of his children. I was even told not to show public affection. I was taught to tolerate my husband rather than to love him. Why? It's because that's what a proper woman is supposed to do.
Unfortunately, some of the guidelines were, and are now, too hard to follow. I know what I'm supposed to be doing. I know how to approach things the way I'm supposed to. I'm married, have two wonderful boys, and take care of our home. Yes, I speak when I'm spoken to. Yes, I take care of my little Sasuke and his big brother Itachi. Yes, yes, I prepare all the meals - for both my children and Fugaku every day. I'm perfectly willing to go as far as continue my regular duties when ill. Everyone in my family seems quite satisfied with what I do. So what rules aren't I following? Why aren't I following them?
I'll admit it. I've broken my mother's number one rule - having fallen head over heels for my husband. Fugaku owns my heart and soul. It isn't just that, either,but sometimes I like to show it - especially today. Today's a very important day. It's one of the few times that I can dress more beautifully for him. It's a time in which I know that I'll at least recieve a gruff compliment. It's rare and I'm perfectly happy for just a single moment of worship, of a fuzzy feeling in the middle of my chest.
Instead of the usual dark blue dress and my favorite apron, I've adorned myself in a soft red kimono with pink cherry blossoms embroidered on it. My lips are brightened with an attractive, colorless gloss. I love how it adds a shiny sheen; it brings out the peachy color of my lips. My dark hair's spun up in a pretty group of twists and held there with my favorite broach. The makeup's light, but it accentuates my features - or so I'm told. I think I like everything this way. It's too much work to sustain on a normal basis, unfortunately.
Patiently, but ever so anxious, I've been waiting for him to come home. I do this every day and have decided to await his arrival in the kitchen today. I son't care if dinner's done already and I should be waiting elsewhere - there's something more important, something rare. This is one of the few days I'll get something more than my beloved's expressionless mask. I want more than a single nod of greeting today.
xoxoxoxoxoxoxo
There's a light scrape of wood on wood, then the light sounds of Fugaku making his way into the house. His dark eyes are undoubtedly searching for me. Perhaps he's confused and doesn't realize what day it is? I wonder if he knows?
"Mikoto?" He calls out my name, curiously, and I hear him pad quietly to the kitchen. He's found me already. I'm not too surprised. He is, after all, a shinobi, isn't he? My husband steps into the room, observing me without emotion. His face is blank and my breath catches in my throat. I'm nervous and I watch as he moves forward. I can feel his rough palms against my face. I can see obsidian orbs easily with my own and I can feel his breath against my lips.
A silence falls upon the room and I'm unsure if he's unhappy with me or if he's simply wondering why I'm so dressed up today. I keep my gaze locked on his, growing even more nervous by the second. It takes a lot of will power not to fidget. Then, I feel his mouth on mine, brief, gentle, and warm. He pulls back and watches me again. I think I can see the slight upward curving of his lips. I hear him whisper a "beautiful" and I couldn't be happier.
Who cares about being a proper lady? I don't believe women should be so stuck up and listen to all that nonsense my parents used to spout on and on about. I love my husband more than anything. I'll be damned if that rids me of the title of a lady! If so, then a lady is something I never was and never will be. At least, Mother, Father, I know that today is special! Although, I'm not all that certain that you would approve. But I can see it - in his trained gaze - a glimmer of just how much I mean to him. We aren't just another forced couple. I think we really love each other. No, I know we do. It's what I want for every Valentines' Day. I love you, Fugaku.
"Happy Valentines' Day, Fugaku."
